


Hold On (Hold On to Me)

by JusteAmusant



Series: Sterek - Caught in the Weather series [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anxious Stiles Stilinski, Calm Derek, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Out of Town Trip, Panicked Stiles, Protective Derek, Stranded, Talking Nonsense, Thunderstorms, Tornado, taking shelter, there's only one bed, weather fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-09-24 09:30:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20356249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JusteAmusant/pseuds/JusteAmusant
Summary: *new summary from update*Stiles wasn't scared of storms, exactly, but this one was pretty freaking intense. "Derek.""What.""Um." What the hell was he gonna say? Please come up here because I think I'm freaking out? It's super loud and who knew thunder and hail were scary? Hold me till the monsters go away? "Did you know that snails can sleep for up to three years, but bullfrogs don't really sleep at all?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Let's pretend Stiles has (had) a great aunt in Southern Indiana. Okay? Okay. We want Sterek cuddles and tornado huddling and trapped!weather fics, so we will go with it

"This is a heavy job, Stiles."

"I know."

His dad studies him, a slight frown on his face. "I wouldn't ask if-"

"Dad. It's cool." Stiles tries his best to grin. "I can totally take care of it."

"It might be nice, seeing where your family grew up."

Stiles nods. "Sure."

"I'm just not crazy about you going by yourself. It's a long way, and you've never been there, at least not since you were little, and...." His dad trails off. "Let me call work again. See if I can get some time off. You shouldn't be going to close up your aunt's place alone."

Stiles clears his throat, knowing he will have to tell his dad about the conversation he had with Derek earlier. "Yeah, Dad, so, about that..."

_*the day before*_

"He wants you to what?" Scott asks.

Stiles shrugs. "Go close up his aunt's house. Or great-aunt, I guess." Stiles' brow furrows. "We didn't know her that well, I mean, I don't remember her at all. But apparently my dad was her favorite nephew growing up. She left him a bunch of stuff, which is being shipped to us, but she also named him as the responsible party to close up her place upon her death. She was renting, so." He shrugs again. "Someone has to turn in the keys."

"That's super weird, man. I've never even heard you mention her."

Stiles paces his room. "I told you, I didn't really know her."

"How come you have to fly all the way out there to close her place? Aren't there like, office assistants for that kind of thing?"

Stiles blows out a breath. "Apparently not. But even if there were, my dad says there's a small box in her closet that has personal Stilinski effects. Ones that she specified must be picked up in person, not shipped." He collapses onto his bed next to Scott. "Southern Indiana has to be super different from Beacon Hills, though, so I don't know, I guess it's a good excuse for a break from all this?" He waves a hand at Scott, knowing his best friend will realize he means all werewolves in general.

There's a noise at his window, and suddenly Derek is taking up way too much space inside his room. "All of what?"

Scott chuckles, Stiles groans, and after explaining where he's going, he finds himself on a plane, two days later, sitting right next to Derek Hale.

"Remind me why you're coming with me, again?" Stiles knows why, because he made Derek explain it three times and had to talk his dad into it twice. He still can't quite believe he's on a plane with Derek, though.

"Aren't you supposed to be the smart one?" Derek asks, cracking open the can of Sprite the flight attendant just set on his tray. 

"Right. Alpha packs, and territorial wolves, and all that nonsense."

"That 'nonsense' could get you killed, if you go alone and they smell pack on you."

"So? Even if they do, won't they just know I'm part of another group, and leave me alone?"

"Best case, sure." Derek shoots him a glare and looks pointedly around the plane, and Stiles doesn't need him to form words to hear the implicated _shut up, Stiles_ within. "Worst case, they smell us on you, think you're trying to take over their territory, and issue a challenge you're too weak to fight."

"Okay, rude," Stiles says, opening his Coke. "Won't having you there just...escalate any conflict that might arise?"

"It'll keep you safe," Derek grunts.

Stiles belts out a laugh. "Yes, because broody, angsty werewolves are so comforting."

Derek invades his space so fast Stiles has to juggle his soda can to keep from spilling it. "They'll know I'm Alpha, they'll know you're mine, and they'll back off."

Woah, okay, there are so many things in that sentence Stiles wants to disseminate, but he's too distracted by Derek's whole sexy possessive persona - that he knows Derek isn't even aware of- so by the time his mouth can form actual words, the flight attendant is back and the moment is gone.

"Well," Stiles says as he enters the old, rickety house. "I guess this is it." 

Derek shoulders past him, checking each room- there aren't many- before coming back to Stiles. He drops his duffel on the floor inside the door, like they're on vacation and he's making himself at home. "Most everything is gone, looks like."

"Yeah." Stiles feels empty as he looks around, like he's missing out on something that he never knew he never had. It's strange, being enveloped by a place someone from his family called home. All he's ever really known is his dad...he can barely remember his mom...and now...

"Here." Derek takes the bags of takeout food from Stiles' hands. "The water is still on, right?"

Stiles nods, and Derek takes off for the kitchen, giving Stiles a moment to breathe. He's connected to this woman, by sheer blood if nothing else, and as he makes his way to the kitchen to follow Derek, he wonders what kinds of meals she cooked here, what she fed his dad when he came around, did she make him wash his hands before eating like Stiles remembers his mother doing?

Derek pops open the containers, two burgers for himself, and a burger with extra curly fries for Stiles. Stiles texts his father, letting him know they arrived safely, then eats his food and pretends they're at pack night. Normal, every day, dinner-focused pack night.

"When I lost..." Derek cuts himself off, takes a few bites, then starts again. "It's hard, not knowing what might have been."

Stiles' head snaps up, because it's the first time Derek has ever been real, genuine, about something other than impending danger. "Yeah," he croaks in agreement. He hates this, hates the tension - not that he's not used to feeling tense around Derek, but it's a very different kind of tension- and so he smiles, and dips his curly fry into his mixture of ketchup and mayo.

"That's disgusting," Derek says, going along with the unspoken change of subject. 

"If by disgusting, you mean delicious, then yes." Stiles shoves more fries into his mouth.

Derek's face twists into a grimace. "You can't be serious."

"Have you ever tried it?"

Derek wrinkles his werewolfy nose, and oh, God, Stiles does not think about how adorable that is. "Then how do you know you don't like it?" Stiles challenges. He dips two fries into the pink concoction, and offers them to Derek.

Who stares down at the offering like it's offended him in some way. "Oh, come on, Sourwolf," Stiles teases. "Afraid you might like it?"

Derek's gaze flickers to his, and with his eyes still on Stiles, he leans forward and opens his mouth, letting Stiles feed him the fries.

Stiles sucks in a breath when Derek's lips brush his fingers, and he covers it with a laugh. "So? What do you think?"

Derek swallows the entire thing, and waits a beat before answering. "It's okay." He eyes the mountain of fries in the corner of Stiles' take out box.

"Ha!" Stiles says, a triumphant grin on his face. "Told you you'd like it." 

He can't quite parcel out the look on Derek's face when he huffs, "Yeah. I do."

"Well then," Stiles says, rubbing the back of his neck. "This is...okay. So there's...okay."

"Stiles."

"Yep."

"What's wrong." Derek's questions always sound like statements. Stiles wishes he didn't find it so endearing.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing is wrong with the fact that there are two of us, and..."

"And only one bed?"

"Yep. That's it. Yeah. I can-"

"Take it," Derek says, spreading his leather jacket onto the hardwood floor. "I'm fine. Slept on worse."

Stiles eyes the queen bed in front of them. It's a touch bigger than his own, and really, there would probably be room-

Room for Derek to sleep beside him.

Room for him to spazz out in his sleep, like he knows he does, because Scott used to tell him so every time they had a sleepover.

Room for him to roll over in his sleep and plaster himself against Derek.

Room for Derek to feel, up close and personal, just what kind of effect his body has on Stiles' own.

He snaps back to the present when he hears Derek snicker. "Take the bed and go to sleep, Stiles."

It was a long flight, and a long day, and so after he brushes his teeth and trades his pants for sleep shorts, Stiles hits the pillows intent on doing just that.

It's about three hours later, according to his phone, when the first wave of thunder wakes him up. 


	2. Chapter 2

An annoying buzz had filtered into his dream, and it takes several blinks before Stiles realizes it's his phone.

He reaches for it as a crash of thunder echoes through the room. 

_Weather Warning for your local area. Severe thunderstorms, flash flooding, and ha..._

The rest of the words are cut of on his screen. He sleepily clicks it off, tossing it onto the floor and rolling back over to sleep.

He hears fabric shift, and oh yeah, woah, he's not alone in this foreign bedroom. Stiles quietly makes his way over to the side of the bed and hangs off it just enough to get a look at his roommate.

Derek's leather jacket is no longer spread on the floor. It's bunched up beneath Derek's head and shoulders, the Alpha curled in on himself in the space between the bed and the wall. Something tugs inside Stiles' chest, and he reaches down just as Derek rolls over. "Hey, Derek. Come on, man, there's room up h-"

"_Fuck,_ that's loud," Derek swears as another boom of thunder shakes the house. Stiles jumps, whether from Derek's sudden wakefulness or the noise of the storm outside, he isn't sure. 

Rain splatters against the windows, pounds the roof so hard and fast Stiles half expects to get soaked any second. "Phone says it's a severe storm." LIghtening flashes outside, lighting up the entire room. It's enough for Stiles to see that Derek is sitting up, looking at his own phone. 

"Hail, strong winds, possible tornados." Derek rattles off the warnings like he's reading ingredients for a recipe. "Looks like a whole band of them."

Stiles sighs, and falls back against the pillows. "So much for sleep." He startles as the thunder crackles, stalls, then crashes all around them. It's deafening for him; it must be drilling through Derek. 

Pops and snaps start clicking off the siding, like they're beneath a table some giant is idly tapping his fingers against. 

Stiles wasn't scared of storms, exactly, but this one was pretty freaking intense. "Derek."

"What."

"Um." What the hell was he gonna say? Please come up here because I think I'm freaking out? It's super loud and who knew thunder and hail were scary? Hold me till the monsters go away? "Did you know that snails can sleep for up to three years, but bullfrogs don't really sleep at all?"

"Stiles-"

"Also, hedgehogs are pretty solitary, except to mate. I wonder if you're part hedgehog? Because I mean I know you run in a pack and all that but you're pretty aloof, you know? You're like a jaguar. They usually hunt and live alone, too. Well except for those are felines and you're obviously-"

"_Stiles." _

_"_What?"

"Stop freaking out."

"I'm not freaking out. You're freaking out. Maybe because I basically just called you a giant cat? I don't know. Hey do you think Scott is-" Suddenly Stiles isn't alone in the bed anymore. 

"Stiles," Derek says again, but it's softer this time. "Breathe. It's just a storm."

Stiles does take a breath, and on the exhale he settles a little more into Derek's side, and damn it's warm here. "I'm breathing. I'm fine with storms. I'm not gonna panic. That would be stupid. And pointless. And _Oh, god, _now it says tornado warning. We don't have tornados in California!"

"Come on." Derek is already pulling him out of bed. "It's fine, Stiles. Everything is fine. Grab the comforter."

"People don't grab comforters when things are 'fine', DerBear."

Derek pauses. "DerBear?"

Stiles shrugs, the comforter fluffing up around him. "I figured a bear was better than a cat." The adorably puzzled - wait what?- way that Derek is looking at him actually makes Stiles forget about the storm raging outside, if only for a brief moment. "Okay," he says, breathing again, because Derek told him to and also because he enjoys being alive. "I think I saw a door beneath the stairs."

The only thing weirder than Derek holding out his hand is how quickly Stiles takes it. 

They shuffle downstairs, Stiles intently focused on not jumping out of his skin every time the thunder crashes faster and nearer. He stops counting the seconds between lightning strikes and thunder claps when he can no longer get to two.

"Come on." Derek flicks on the flashlight on his phone, pushing Stiles ahead of him into the bare pantry beneath the stairwell. "It's not as good as a basement, but it's better than nothing." He closes the door behind them, and it occurs to Stiles it's a good thing neither one of them are claustrophobic, because the roof of the tiny closet slants downward with the angle of the stairs above, and the two of them have to crouch together just to fit. 

"Praying mantis are solitary animals as well. Although I guess if you knew a female was gonna bite your head off and eat you after availing herself of your junk, you'd probably wanna hang out alone too."

The closet is oddly silent, considering the volume of the storm outside, when Stiles hears a weird sound.

It's Derek. Derek just snickered. "'After availing herself of your junk'?"

"Well!" Stiles waves a hand, as best he can from beneath the blanket. "How else should I explain it?" Pondering as much is a welcome distraction from the steadily picking up roaring going on around them.

Derek is saved from answering, though Stiles can see the -wow, gorgeous, do that more often- smile that's still on his face when their phones both light up again.

_Tornado warning. Take shelter immediately. Tornado warning. Take shelter..._

"I don't know." Derek scoots closer, and Stiles instinctively opens his arm so he can share the blanket. "After intercourse." Derek takes the invitation and tucks the blanket around himself as well, putting him side to side with Stiles. "After mating." He grips the blanket and brings his -strong, solid, _hard_\- arm around, almost meeting Stiles' where it's draped across his knee on the other side, essentially forming a cocoon around them. Derek is close, so maddeningly, impossibly close, and his breath ghosts across Stiles' ear. "After fucking." 

Stiles inhales sharply, fighting the urge to sink into Derek where their shoulders touch. "Okay, Picky Pete. She kills him after fuc-" He abruptly cuts off as the thunder crash fades away, like someone talking too loudly at a party when the music suddenly turns off. He exhales slowly, not daring to move, as if his motions alone will clue the storm into activating again. "Is that...is it over?"

Derek shrugs. "Phone still says to take cover."

Stiles makes it through the silence for all of thirty seconds. "Is it supposed to be this quiet?"

"How would I know?"

"I don't know!" Stiles cries. "I just gave you like, five bar nights worth of trivia, man. You could chime in with your own knowledge anytime."

Derek snickers again. "What do you know about bars?"

"Woah," Stiles says. "No need to-" Another roll of thunder cuts him off. The rain and wind pick back up again, and Stiles thumbs his phone. "Oh, fuck. Derek. Fuck."

"Not how I imagined hearing that," Derek says, and it's testament to how terrified Stiles is that those words don't quite register. "Look," he says, showing Derek his phone. He doesn't realize that his voice is rising, trying to combat the roaring tunnel of sound outside. "A tor-oh my god, a tornado just touched down right next to us. The town, I mean. The town right next to-oh, _fuck." _ Stiles pulls his knees into his chest. "Werewolves. Werewolves, Kanimas, hunters, and Stiles Stilinski goes down by getting sucked into a tornado. This is it. This is how it ends. I've survived supernatural creatures, but Mother Nature refuses to-"

"Hey." Derek slings an arm around his neck and yanks him forward. "You're not gonna die."

"Be nice if you sounded a little more confident, there, DerBear."

"Come here." Derek is suddenly sitting in front of him, legs splayed into an open V that he slots Stiles into. Stiles' thighs are draped across Derek's, their chests touching, Stiles' arms around Derek's waist and Derek's arms around Stiles' shoulders. He's strong, and solid, he's quiet strength to hold onto while the wind and rain and thunder rage around them. "Tornados are quick. For all we know, it's a mile away. It'll be gone before you can come up with your next useless fact."

"Knowing that a shrimp's heart is located on its head can hardly be called useless, Der." Stiles buries his face into Derek's neck as the roaring gets louder. His hands dig into Derek's waist as the entire house shakes around them, and Derek's arms tightening around his back are the only things keeping Stiles from splintering apart with fear.

"Derek." He forgives himself for how badly his voice is shaking. "If it picks us up, don't...Don't let go, okay?"

_It won't, Stiles, _he knows he'll hear. _Shut up, Stiles. Don't be ridiculous, Stiles._

"I won't," Derek whispers, and it's so fucking loud outside that Stiles shouldn't have been able to hear the promise.

But he did, and so he takes a breath.

"Stiles." 

Stiles shakes his head.

A rumble, much quieter and more good humored than the rumbling of thunder from moments before, vibrates against his chest. "Hey."

Nope. Stiles is warm, he's buried in something that smells just like Derek, and there are solid bands of strength around him that he doesn't want to unlatch yet. 

"You can move now, Stiles, come on."

"Npphh fnk," Stiles says, wondering why his 'no thank you' didn't come out very clearly.

"Hey." Stiles lifts his head, only because he's never in his life heard Derek's voice go that soft and gentle. "It's okay, babe. It's over." 

Stiles cocks his head, looking everywhere but at Derek. He hears the quiet, not ominous like before, but calm, serene. Only the faint sound of light rain makes it to his ears. 

He looks at Derek and grins. "It's over. We're alive." 

Derek chuckles again, and Stiles thinks he would live through another hundred tornados if it means he gets to hear that sound every time. "We are."

Stiles throws the blanket off his shoulders, and it piles around them on the floor. 

Neither one of them moves. "You didn't let go," he whispers. 

"Nah." Derek reaches out and cups his cheek. "Getting sucked into a tornado all by myself would be pretty boring."

Stiles lifts a shoulder. "Plus if you had, you'd never know that slugs have four noses."

"God," Derek says, and the rush of air that accompanies it makes Stiles wonder if Derek even knows he's speaking. "You are so damn adorable." The hand around his neck tightens, and Derek is pulling him closer, and a pair of soft lips surrounded by stubble are suddenly touching his. Stiles moves his mouth in surprise, and Derek takes that as an invitation, swiping his tongue across Stiles' lips and then into his mouth, gentle, curious, but no less enthusiastic.

Stiles eagerly returns the -holy, hot, mindmelting- kiss, climbing further into Derek's lap, hands and mouth scrambling for purchase. 

That delicious laughter rumbles against his chest again, and it takes Stiles a few seconds to register Derek's mouth forming words against his own. "Hey Stiles."

"Mmff?"

Derek's mouth curls upward, and he's kissing and pecking Stiles in between his next words. "Did you know that wolves mate for life?"

Stiles grins, and kisses him back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Stay safe and well, my lovelies. These are tough times for us all, and I hope fics are helping you like they are me.


End file.
